


Cuddling with Claws Out

by thetwistedcelestials



Series: Touch [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Friendship, Gen, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 06:30:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetwistedcelestials/pseuds/thetwistedcelestials
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Scott face another full moon together; things go well and even though Scott's wolf takes over, he recognizes Stiles as his pack and just wants to play.</p>
<p>Then, Scott's Alpha calls...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cuddling with Claws Out

**Author's Note:**

> I’m taking the liberty of saying that the moon’s power affects werewolves for three nights. This is the first half of an expansion of “Ficlet: Scott.” I’m still tweaking the second chapter. So, what do you think? How is the dialog? I appreciate any constructive criticism. Thanks for reading.

“Okay. Okay. Okay…” Stiles kept checking the chains nervously. Scott could hear his friend’s heartbeat rising. It was the second night of the full moon, the second they were going through together. “Okay…” he repeated again.

Scott huffed at him. “Yes, I think we’re okay. Jeez.”

Stiles glared weakly at the chained up werewolf. While Scott felt like he was a little more in control after talking with Derek last night, he was still on edge. It was like the voice in his head that told him right from wrong, that kept him from doing whatever he wanted was wearing thin. He bit his tongue against saying any more, though the desire to lash out grew. Why did he need to be chained? What was wrong with taking what others weren’t strong enough to hold onto? If Stiles wanted to defend his interest then…

Scott shook his head against his instincts. Stiles didn’t like this anymore than Scott did. He might even hate it more than Scott. Not that the werewolf could blame him, especially not after Lydia…

The wave of guilt from that memory helped Scott calm down. A little, at least. Not enough. He rattled the chains in irritation. Scott was allowing the heavier chains tonight. Whether they were going work though…

Scott growled faintly. He felt the spike In Stiles’ heart rate, but Scott’s attention was on the window. The moon’s light crept into the room, like pale, molten silver. He watched it warily, watched it come closer, bringing with it temptation and power. Regret seemed far away when he was in the moon’s lull. So close…

It finally penetrated Scott’s consciousness that Stiles was talking to him. Nervous, rapid-fire statements, bouncing from topic to topic. “…and I think these’ll hold this time. Not like the handcuffs, which were kind of gross. Wonder why the heck isn’t Derek around here. He says ‘Be careful on the full moon’ and then ditches us to fend for ourselves. What else does he have to do? Why don’t you two fight it out? Expensive in food, not to mention all the tears in your clothing. Though…”

Scott tuned him out again, watching the moonlight glide towards him. Unconsciously, he shifted towards it, the fear of the transformation ebbing away in the wash of power, the call to freedom. He pushed against the chains, straining against them, wanting…freedom…run…   
…chase…hunt…

…kill…

Gentle fingers carded through his hair. Vision narrowed, his head snapped towards the touch. He looked at it curiously. What was this creature? He tilted his head, trying to understand the frail creature in front of him, touching him. A deep inhalation of a familiar scent sparked the glimmerings of a memory.

The fingers kept moving through his hair, with meaningless yet incessant sounds coming from the creature. It smelled fearful, yet instead of running, it (he?) continued the stroking. Leaning forwards, the wolf breathed the creature’s scent in more deeply, growling at its restraints. Looking down, he found something holding him, keeping him from moving. He struggled against the bindings as they rattled. The creature moved its ministrations to the bindings. Was he going to set the wolf free? Growling low, the wolf saw the hands were not trying to free him. The growl rumbled in his chest, as a glare shifted to this creature. Was he responsible for this? Baring his teeth, muscles tensed to leap towards the creature.

But the hands returned to their petting, gently massaging the wolf’s neck. The growl in its chest lessened, changing slightly. The wolf could not deny the familiarity of the creature’s touch and scent. It was almost recognizable…familiar…like…yes…like a pack mate.  
Leaning forward, straining again, the wolf bumped his head against one of the creature’s limbs. His tongue came out, to taste the creature. A gasp was ignored, as he licked and nosed the exposed skin. The wolf’s nose twitched as an odd scent hit him. He sneezed abruptly, trying to rid himself of the strange, unnatural scent. He growled in disfavor, but underneath…yes…something familiar.

The wolf growled again, until the petting continued.

His attention returned to tasting and smelling. He lapped at the creature, nose finding the extra scents released – a warm spiciness, a high sweetness, a clear woodsy smell. Yes, the scent was of a close pack mate, one that he had known since even before he was a pup.  
He turned his head, leaning into a soothing scratching along his scalp. The wolf let his head fall onto his chest. The scent and taste were telling – this was a pack mate, however odd the creature seemed. He would protect the wolf. The wolf allowed himself to relax and be vulnerable. Sleep began stealing over him, the sounds from his pack mate seeming more familiar. The gentle rubbing continued, lulling the wolf to sleep.  
His pack mate shifted, so he was leaning against the wolf’s side, though he continued the massage. Gently, the wolf nuzzled his pack mate’s neck, breathing deep the familiar scent that spoke of security, of trust, of home. A warm pressure on top of his head told him his friend returned his affections. The massage slowed with his pack mate’s heart beat and breathing. A contented rumble buzzed in the wolf’s chest, as he allowed himself to follow his pack mate into slumber.

\--

Scott woke slowly. It was a Saturday, so he could sleep in. Mmm…sleep. He shifted closer to the warmth pressed against his head.

Clink.

Frowning, Scott shifted again. What’s that clinking? His head slowly cleared, as the events of the night before slowly filtered back into his brain. There was something about the full moon and petting, and Stiles looking nervous? Scott blinked his eyes blearily, looking down at the chains wrapped around him . And Stiles…slumped over him…

Scott’s eyes jumped open.

Heart racing, Scott struggled against his chains. Why was Stiles slumped over? Was he hurt? Did Scott try to hurt him again? Was he okay? He struggled harder against the chains, needing to check if his friend was okay. Scott raked his eyes over his best friend. Any injuries? Blood? 

“Stiles! Stiles! Are you okay?” Scott took a deep breath. Can I smell any blood? He strained his ears to listen to the heartbeat. The rush of blood in his own ears kept distracting him.

“Mmmf…wha?”

Stiles started to stir. That’s a good sign, right?

“Stiles! Are you okay? Did I…did I hurt you?”

Stiles scrubbed at his eyes, lifting himself up from the chains, wrinkling his nose at the drool he left on them. He blinked bemusedly at Scott. “Wha…? Oh, good, the chains worked.”

Scott stopped struggling. Right, the chains. If I’m still chained up, I couldn’t have hurt him. Sighing in relief, Scott slumped back and tried to remember what happened last night. Stiles stood up, stretching his arms above his head. He winced as bones in his back cracked.

“Damn, I have a kink in my neck.” The teen twisted his neck to work out some of the tightness. “How do you feel?”

Scott frowned. He felt…normal. “Um. Normal?” As normal as a teen werewolf could feel. “I thought the full moon was supposed to still affect me?”

Stiles watched Scott. He’s trying to see if I’m still whacked-out by the moon. Scott held Stiles’ eyes, trusting his best friend’s judgment. It’s a hell of a lot better than mine… He winced at the memory of Alison and Jackson. Or Lydia and the coach’s office. 

Stiles must have decided Scott was okay, because he leaned down with a groan to undo the chains wrapped around him. “Let’s talk over breakfast, dude. Man, I’m starving!”

\--

Scott showered quickly, slipping into a clean jeans and a shirt. He headed downstairs to start breakfast while Stiles took a shower. Pulling eggs from the fridge, he saw a note on the fridge told him his mom was sleeping after her night shift, so the two of them were on their own for breakfast. He went back to the fridge and pulled out some vegetables and cheese to make an omelet. As he cooked, Scott tried to remember last night.

Gentle fingers carded through his hair.

He licked and nosed the exposed skin.

The scent was of a close pack mate, one that he had known since even before he was a pup.

Scott frowned at the flashes of memory. He remembered feeling agitated by the chains. But his wolf had recognized a packmate and had relaxed. Stiles came down the stairs as Scott started on the second omelet.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Scott handed Stiles the first omelet, not sure how to bring up his wolf’s reaction to Stiles’ petting last night. “So…um…what happened last night? I remember bits. Like, you petting me?”

Stiles looked up, mouth already full of omelet. “Wahl…” Stiles frowned, then chewed and tried again. “Well, we chained you up. And then, you wolfed out on me and started to struggle with the chains.” He took a bite of the omelet, swallowing before speaking again. “And dude, so freaking glad we used the extra heavy chains this time. Anyways, I tried to calm you down and, I dunno, I just tried petting you and you seemed to like the petting. Kept growling at me when I stopped. And, dude, you were, like, licking and sniffing at me. Like a dog.”

“Yeah, I, uh, kind of remember that.” Scott felt himself turning red. He focused on finishing the second omelet before joining Stiles at the table. He left the omelet ingredients out on the counter. I should make one for mom, too.

“So…um…I think my wolf kind of recognized you.”

“Wha?” Stiles looked up, mouth showing half-chewed omelet. 

“Dude, gross.” Scott nudged Stiles’ shoulder before continuing, “I don’t know, dude. It’s like there was a giant sign around you, that just screamed ‘FRIEND’! ‘DON’T EAT ME!’”

Stiles threw his hands up in a silent cheer. “Dude! Awesome! I’ve been reading up about this whole ‘pack’ thing, since the Alpha keeps trying to get you to get rid of us or whatever.”

Scott winced. “Sorry…” 

Stiles waved his hand. “Whatever, we’ll deal with it. But, like, if you recognize me as your packmate, then maybe your wolf won’t try to kill me. As often. Unless I’m wrong. Or the Alpha orders you to. Which, seriously, that guy has issues.”

Scott nodded, pretending like Stiles was making sense. If he listened long enough, Scott was usually able to catch up with what Stiles was thinking (or, by then, something was going horribly wrong and Scott could focus on fixing it). “Maybe we should ask Derek about it?”

Stiles glared at him for the suggestion. “Do you just like hurting me?”

Scott winced. He kept forgetting that Stiles didn’t much like the older werewolf; something about feeling threatened and unfairly disregarded. He apologized again.

Stiles huffed, but waved Scott’s apology away. “So, this is a good development. I’m going to need to look some more stuff up. But meet me at my place tonight. I have an idea.”

Scott groaned in his head; he had learned to dread Stiles’ ideas. 

\--

“And it’s not like it’s the first time we’ve done it.”

“Stiles.”

“And I’ll keep a fire extinguisher close by.”

“Stiles.”

“It worked pretty well last time.”

“Stiles! This is a bad idea. Like, even worse than the firecracker incident. And that was already really bad.” Years ago, Stiles had an idea to see if they could use firecrackers for a homemade rocket ship. Things didn’t end well. A fire extinguisher was heavily involved in that idea as well. “The chains worked last night, so let’s just do that again.”

Stiles shook his head. “No. You need to learn to control this. We can’t keep chaining you up every night. What if you’re caught without a convenient place to chain up sometime? What if someone walks in on you? And probably me, because I’m awesome, so you’ll drag me into that mess. I am so not going to have that conversation with my dad. ‘No dad, really, we’re not into bondage, I just chained Scott up so he wouldn’t go crazy and try to kill things at night. Why, yes I do think that looks like a nice white jacket, but no, I don’t think I’d like to try it on, doctor.’”

“Stiles! You could get hurt! This. Is. A. Bad. Idea!” Stiles wanted to see if Scott could go through a full moon, wolfed out without trying to kill Stiles. He said that, if Scott had recognized him as a packmate, then he would be safe. Scott wasn’t willing to take the risk and they were running out of time to get the chains ready.

“Scott.” Scott felt Stiles grab his shoulders. “You’ve been around me all day, right? Do you still feel as crazy as before?”  
Scott had to admit that, no, he wasn’t feeling as wild as the first night. The wolf was still just at the edge of his consciousness, just under his skin. He could feel it prowling, anxious so close to the full moon. But something about being around Stiles was keeping him in check. Not like Alison, who kept the wolf from coming out entirely. But Stiles helped keep it focused, calm. Scott eyes fluttered closed involuntarily as Stiles gently stroked his neck. Scott hummed at the touch, his wolf soothed by the familiar touch.

“See? You’re totally going to be my lapdog.” Scott growled at the jab, but leaned in as Stiles gently ran fingernails along his scalp. “Scott, look at me.” Scott reluctantly opened his eyes, meeting his best friend’s warm brown eyes.

“You were there for me, you know, when…when I lost my mom.” Stiles dropped his gaze, looking at his feet. “And you stayed with me, those first few weeks, when my dad had to work late as the Sheriff, you let me hold you like a giant teddy bear. And…and I just need to help.” Stiles’ voice dropped-off as he finished.

Scott sighed, pulling his friend into a hug. He held on tight, gently stroking his best friend’s back. “Alright.”

\--

His packmate was tiring. The wolf could still smell some nervousness, some fear in him, but it was mixed with sweat and playful curiosity. Smiling widely, the wolf feinted left before tackling again, pinning his pack mate down, careful not to scratch. Whining softly, he licked the wounds that he had caused a distressed sound earlier. His pack mate was so fragile. But fun!

Turning away to the window, he scratched at it again, whining. He wanted to run! To feel the breeze! Why were they still inside?  
His packmate sighed, trying to pull him away from the window. He growled in frustration, feeling the energy buzzing underneath his skin. He nipped at the hands pulling at him, going back to the window. He stared at the moon, the outdoor scents slipping into his nose, tantalizing him, enticing him, calling him out.

Suddenly, another scent spiked the air: a strong scent, familiar yet threatening. His growl deepened, as he felt the call. A phantom ache from his side reacted to the scent, to the call sent deep into his blood. He tried to resist, but his Alpha was calling him. Ordering him.

Attack…

He turned, lured into the call.

Attack…kill..packmate…

He whined at the order, trying to shake it off even as it grew stronger. He fought it, the scent of his packmate battling with the call of his Alpha. (Packmate.) Kill. (Packmate!) Kill. (PACKMATE.) Kill packmate…

The scent of fear grew and grew, making it harder to fight the call. Even as part of him wanted to comfort his packmate, the call grew stronger, the phantom ache in his side driving him. He stalked forward, lowering into a hunting stance. Kill…packmate…

No!

But it was useless. He could see the fear, taste it in the air. His prey’s eyes widened, backing away from the wolf. But it had nowhere to go.

(…get away…window…)

The wolf moved forward, away from the window, circling towards his prey, watching him move slowly to match the wolf, ignoring the quiet jingling of metal on metal. Licking his lips in anticipation, savoring the scent of fear (…no…packmate…), he readied himself to leap on his prey.  
The prey threw something at him and the wolf ducked, dodging easily. The faint breeze and scents of the outdoors made him growl; looking up, he growled louder when he saw his prey slipping outside. Howling in frustration, he leapt forward, but too slow to catch anything. He scrambled outside as the pale boy dropped off the roof. A familiar roar (…good…escape…) filled his ears and he leapt down. He could smell the prey, the scent of fear mixed with a powerful scent of rubber and gas. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, he gave chase.

\---

Oh god, oh god…I’m going to die. Because of Scott. What the hell has my life become? Stiles didn’t know what had happened. At first, Scott had seemed fine (Oh man, if I survive this, Scott is never going to let me live this mistake down…wait, how is that even relevant? When did near-death experiences become so blasé?) then out-of-the-blue with the growling and the teeth and the incredible implication of the rending of the flesh. Stiles pressed down harder on the gas. Seriously, what the hell?

Turning into the woods, Stiles fervently prayed to anyone or anything listening that Derek was home. With the racket they were making, Stiles would have been surprised if Derek didn’t hear them coming. Oh, please, please let that damn werewolf hearing be good for something other than creepy stalker eavesdropping.

Something thudded on the roof of his car and the sound of claws scraping against metal told Stiles what (Or who…) it was. He swerved to the right and left, trying to shake the werewolf from his car. Damn it…almost there…

The window to his right shattered, as a deep growl sent shivers down his spine. Amazingly, Stiles managed to keep the car straight on the road and just kept speeding towards that burned out husk of a home. If the drive doesn’t kill me, my dad is going to. I’m just lucky there aren’t any stoplights down this way. Claws reached inside, tearing at his car’s seats, catching on his arm as the claws swung wildly. Muffling a shout, he pressed harder on the gas. Thankfully, the Derek’s house came into view just as it looked like the werewolf was going to try to get into the car.  
Slamming on the brakes, Stiles flung his door open and hurdled towards the house. “Derek! Help!” Stiles screamed. Damn it Derek, you had better be home! I did not drive all this way and have my baby all scratched up for you to leave me for dead!

\--

The sudden stop pulled at the wolf’s shoulders. Whining in pain, he shook his head as he healed. Something gave him pause. Sniffing the air, he whined again. An older, more powerful wolf’s scent clung to the air.

Kill…

The order came again but the phantom pain in his side was weakening. Hesitant in the territory of a stronger wolf, he sighted on his prey (Packmate…!). Growling again, he tackled the running figure. They rolled and tumbled in the dirt and leaves. Both panting, the wolf straddled his prey and pinned him down with one paw on his chest. He raised his other paw to finish the job, when a familiar voice called out to him.  
Staring down at the boy (Packmate!), the wolf’s eyes glowed amber. The moon’s energy soared beneath his skin, his blood singing in response, the thrum of the prey’s (boy’s) racing heart exciting him, urging him to make the kill…but something made him stop. He titled his head as familiar hand stroked his sides, chest, and neck. A soothing litany surrounded him, coming from the creature, drowning out the weakening echoes of his Alpha. He lowered his paw slowly, leaning down. Something about the scent seemed…familiar. Breathing deeply, he scented. Beneath the soil, sweat, and fear he smelled…

A warm spiciness. A gentle sweetness. A clear woodsy smell.

(PACKMATE!)

Whining softly, he nuzzled his packmate. Why was his packmate so distressed? He pressed his face against his packmate’s cheek, rubbing and licking gently, trying to calm him with a familiar scent. A pleased rumble played in his chest as hands stroked his back. Scenting blood, he lifted his face and traced the bare torso and arms until he found shallow claw marks, still bleeding. Whining softly again, he began licking the wounds, pressing a paw down to keep his packmate from slipping away, ignoring the protests. His packmate was safe.

\--

“Oh, gross! Scott! Scott! Stop licking me!” Stiles tried to wriggle away, but Scott just held him down with one hand. His cuts tingled a little under the licking, but the stinging was going away. Sighing in defeat, Stiles just let him finish. He buried his free hand in Scott’s curls, gently kneading to hide the shaking. His heartbeat was slowly coming down, though he still felt like he was going to have a heart attack. What a way to end the night…

When Scott decided he was finished licking Stiles wounds (Gross…effective, but gross.), Scott plopped down, looking like he was going to fall asleep on Stiles. Not having any of that, Stiles pushed Scott off him, ignoring the tired growls coming from the wolf. Despite the long night, sleeping outdoors without a shirt didn’t sound very appealing. He went to his car and turned the engine off. Looking over at Scott, still sprawled out on the forest floor, Stiles decided it might not be a good idea to head back to his place. Not until we figure out what happened.  
Thankfully, Stiles found he still had a sleeping bag in the trunk of his car from a summer camping trip with his dad. Ha, procrastination wins again! Pulling it out, he headed back over to where Scott was laying down. Unrolling it, Stiles pulled himself inside. Scott scooted over, snuggling closer.

Stiles had to laugh at how ridiculous this must have looked. With luck, Derek wouldn’t be back before they woke-up. “Night Scott. Sleep well. If you try to kill me again, try not to wake me up, okay?” Maybe he should have been more worried, but something about Scott and this place seemed...relaxed and safe. Laughing tiredly to himself again, Stiles let himself drift off to sleep, Scott curled up next to him.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I have this weird head-canon (which season 2 totally stomped on) that the reason Scott is so homicidal is because his Alpha is crazy, which somehow was passed on with the bite (in addition to the Alpha’s active urgings to kill). Also, a second weird head-canon/idea I have is that the wolf-side of a werewolf is like a newborn pup when it’s first made, but matures rapidly to reach the same age as the human-side eventually (hence wolf-Scott’s playfulness here).


End file.
